


Ice Thawed, Flames Quenched

by Zendelai



Series: Mass Effect One-Shots, Drabbles, and etc. [3]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Forgiveness, Huerta Memorial, Mass Effect 3, Rebuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 14:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3653397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zendelai/pseuds/Zendelai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all that had happened between them, will Shepard and Kaidan be able to find the support they need through the Reaper War?</p><p>Giveaway prize for maxiierawr over on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Thawed, Flames Quenched

_We bury our love in the wintery grave,_

_A lump in the snow was all that remained._

_-Death Cab for Cutie, The Ice is Getting Thinner_

\--

 

Shepard's prayers had been answered, yet the victory felt bittersweet.

 

Kaidan was alive. Alive, recovering, and now a Spectre candidate. The spunky Lieutenant with a heart of gold that had been her subordinate on the SR-1 was moving up in their tattered galaxy. Ironically, with his promotion to Major, he now outranked her.

 

She was happy for him; no, she was ecstatic for him. After all his hard work and dedication to the Alliance -- dedication she had failed to display when she teamed up with Cerberus -- he deserved every commendation he received.

 

As she rode the escalator to Huerta's level, she asked herself: With his recovery and accomplishments considered, why did she feel weighted down by the stone in her stomach?

 

_Horizon._

_I love you, but I can't trust you._

_Cerberus._

 

The Illusive Man seemed unusually determined to test every relationship of hers.

 

Her head pounded, either from her L3 implant (generously provided by Cerberus) or from the thought of the conversation laid out before her.

 

It had been so much easier visiting him when he had been unconscious. She spoke the words left unsaid, and only the machines keeping him stable listened. She gripped his too-cold palm, remembering the feel of his warm fingertips caressing her cheek. She admitted both her fears and her misguided hopes. Throughout it all he lay, as still as a statue laying guard over a square.

 

He was her guardian. Her sentinel. They had betrayed each other, and she only hoped there was forgiveness ahead, for she feared the thought of conquering this war without him at her side.

 

Her boots against the floor of the hospital were too loud; she trained her eyes on them, averting the gazes of the many who looked upon her with fear in their eyes.

 

She was their sentinel, as Kaidan was hers.

 

Udina's voice carried through Kaidan's door; Gwin pressed herself against the wall adjacent to it. Kaidan spoke in low words to Udina, and the sound send her throat plunging into her stomach.

 

It was true. He was well.

 

Now to speak the words left unsaid to him, knowing that this time, he would hear.

 

* * *

 

Skycar after skycar danced across the makeshift atmosphere, carrying urgent passengers to business appointments, lunch dates, dentists' offices, residences of friends.

 

While he was confined to this bed, aware of the full extent of the danger of the galaxy they occupy, the masses continued to live their lives in blissful ignorance.

 

What he would give to be out there making a difference again.

 

"Miss it out there?"

 

He started at the sound of her melodic voice, his neck snapping so quickly it left him with the sharp pang of whiplash.

 

Shepard.

 

Her dark brows were turned inwards in a furrow, her shoulders rigid with tension. One shoulder rested on his doorway, attempting aloofness, but the straightness in her spine, her crossed arms, and her averting entering the room gave her away.

 

In spite of the tension and the weariness, she looked beautiful.

 

In a low voice thick with emotion at the sight of her, he muttered, "Hey, Shepard."

 

Like a vampire forbidden to enter without permission, she hovered just outside of his room, looking anywhere but at him.

 

Never had he seen her so... damn awkward.

 

"Hey, Major," she said.

 

"Sounds strange, doesn't it?" He asked lightly, attempting to ease the tension. Her eyes finally met his, and they were weary and dark with a mix of concern and something approaching fear. How he wished to reach out and brush away the furrow between her brows with his thumb.

 

"I should be calling you sir." Gwin smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. The moment the smile slipped away, the weariness in her eyes deepened.

 

Although he knew that the gesture shouldn't be necessary, he waved her inside. She hesitated, worrying at her bottom lip, before taking three slow steps to his bedside. She remained just out of his reach, however, and the stiffness in her spine left her awkward and unsure.

 

Nervous, he wet his lips. He knew that he had said so much to her that he had come to regret. Yet the roller coaster of their partnership over the course of the two and a half years since they had first landed on Eden Prime left him dizzy, confused, and unsure of everything that had transpired.

 

This was their first opportunity to take their time. To deconstruct. To understand.

 

And she knew it, too. He only hoped that the damage from his words wasn't irreparable.

 

"Shepard..." He chewed idly on a piece of dry skin that had developed on his bottom lip. "Gwin," he whispered, reverently, the way he had whispered her name the night that they had made love on her desk, her powerful legs wrapped around his hips, a bead of sweat sliding between her breasts. There had been times after that, too, before space had opened up and swallowed her, but that first time had been quick and desperate, the possibility of living after that moment so uncertain. That first time had been filled with rough hands, muffled cries, and urgency; after that, when they celebrated living instead of anticipated dying, they had changed to gentle touches, quiet whispers, the patience for exploration.

 

"Don't." That single word burned and she looked away, ashamed, fixing her gaze on the linoleum floor. He watched her eyes close and she took a series of deep breaths before opening them again. "Please, for now, let's stick with the familiar." Her eyes finally met his, and to his surprise, they were gleaming with the threat of her emotions spilling over. "Ok?"

 

He nodded in acquiescence. "Ok, Commander." Her title stung leaving his throat. He ached for the familiar, but would they be able to return to what they had before? To longing gazes, late night laughter, and idle touches?

 

By God, he hoped that they could. He hoped that more than anything.

 

For in spite of his words bourne of confusion, he loved her. He had for longer than he even admitted to himself. He loved the way she'd pull her short hair back into a tiny ponytail, licking her lips, when she had a difficult task to conquer. He loved that she could now wield her biotics as easily as she could wield her weaponry, a true chameleon to battle. He loved that she would help every single person who asked, no matter how trivial the task. He loved that she gave, and gave, and gave, and never took. He loved her lips, her nose, her eyes, her hands, all of it, all of her.

 

For that love, he would wound his pride. For that love, he would give everything he had.

 

Silence filled the small space as they both seemed to be waiting for the other, so he filled his lungs and began the apology that had been running through his mind every day since he woke in Huerta.

 

"Shepard, I..." Funny how it had seemed so much easier in his head than it did now, as her gaze pierced through him. For a fleeting moment, he wished he was wearing armour instead of being naked from the waist up, so he crossed his arms over his chest reflexively. "I believe an apology is due."

 

Barely perceptively, her eyes narrowed, but he took it as a wordless sign to continue. "I trust you, but I don't -- can't -- trust Cerberus. Not after everything we saw together. Not after everything we know they've done, and even more that they're capable of." His throat was suddenly dry, and he attempted to swallow down the cottony feeling in his mouth. "But part of me is grateful to them. Because without them, you'd be dead, and from what you've told me, half the galaxy would be too."

 

Her hands clenched into fists, and he immediately regretted the lack of confidence in her word. That doubt was bubbling up again, leaving his words marred, and he had to push it aside, he had to trust her, if they were ever to move forward.

 

No, that wasn't right. He did trust her. He knew he did. She hadn't always made the best decisions, but they were done with the right intentions, and part of being in a position of command is making the tough decisions for the weaker minded. He trusted her and would continue to trust her, regardless of her past, because dammit, she was Shepard and she deserved it.

 

By an infinitesimal amount her tension relieved, and her eyes burned when they met his. "Do you understand why I cooperated with them?" Cooperate, not join. Leaving the question rhetorical, she plowed on. "If you truly think that I cooperated with them because I accepted them turning people into husks, I'm wasting my breath explaining it to you."

 

First hand he had seen the horror in her eyes when they had seen the extent of Cerberus' experiments, and the betrayal in her eyes when he had accused her of still working with them so recently. Now they bore straight through his, daring him to defy her.

 

"I know that's not why you worked with them. I know there's more to it."

 

"Damn straight you do," she seethed. "You were on Horizon. You saw those Collectors. You know what they were capable of. If everyone else was turning a blind eye, of course I had to work with Cerberus, to save our people." Her chest heaved from her outburst, but their eye contact never wavered.

 

She was right, and it made him feel like a damn fool.

 

His cheeks burned with shame, hers burned with anger, and she looked away. "I was never foolish enough to assume they changed. And when The Illusive Man asked that I preserve the Collector Ship, I knew that I was right not to assume. Their priorities had never truly been for humanity, they had been for further advancement for themselves."

 

The question he had for so long needed to know an answer to slipped out before he could withhold it. "Why didn't you just come back to the Alliance?" _Why didn't you come back to me?_

 

"They pushed the Reapers under the rug, why wouldn't they do the same with the Collectors?" Defensively, her arms crossed her chest. "Besides, I had been MIA for two years. Alliance soldiers -- yourself included -- watched me die. To have me suddenly reappear would raise a whole host of questions that would have drowned me in bureaucracy for so long that millions would have died in the mean time."

 

Kaidan snorted. "That bureaucracy is exactly why I'm hesitant to join the Spectres."

 

The furrow returned between her brows, but the corner of her lip rose into the faintest of smiles. "They say that Spectres have freedom, but you'll be astounded by the amount of paperwork there is."

 

The charged tension in the room had dissipated, and it was a relief for him. "It's not like you can ask the Reapers to wait while you fill out another requisition form."

 

She sighed, and her arms fell to her sides. Even the tension wrought through her had slipped away, leaving her looking worn and tired.

 

He said, "I want to be back out there, fighting at your side." He needed to be there for her and he knew it. It had been a relief to hear that Garrus was on the ship with her, the ever present rock, but she needed a shoulder to cry on when she was weak, someone to admit her greatest fears to.

 

Most of all, he needed her, too. For he was scared of the future, and didn't want to be in one without her there, not when they were so close to the precipice of humanity.

 

She worried on her lip again, and when her eyes finally met his, they were full of every bit of vulnerability he knew that she had but she locked away so well. "Only if we can trust each other. Completely. If there's any chance that there will be doubt from either of us..." She audibly swallowed. "We can't risk compromising the mission."

 

The question flashed through his mind like stock market ticker tape: but what of the risk of the lack of trust to us? Was there an us?

 

One step at a time, he had to remind himself. A foundation had to be built before a house.

 

The Alliance colours always made her more beautiful, contrasting with her dark hair and alabaster skin. "I trust you completely, Shepard. Do you trust me?"

 

She cocked her head, but smiled. And this time, it reached her eyes. "We've been through too much for me not to. We stole an Alliance ship together, after all."

 

The corners of his eyes crinkled when he returned her smile. "Not to mention the Thorian, the exploding volcano, bombing a krogan breeding facility..."

 

Mirthfully, she rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me!" Her smile remaining in place, a tentative hand reached forward to cup his cheek. Her hand was hot and moist from perspiration, but the sensation of her touch sent a jolt of electricity down the side of his body and his heart leapt into his throat, leaving his chest light. "It's good to see you looking better, Major. Keep recovering..." Her thumb stroked his cheek, once, before her hand pulled away. Her last words were whispered. "For me."

 

Though his throat was clogged with his heart, he managed to choke out, "I will. Thanks for visiting, Shepard."

 

When she left, he was filled with so much more hope than when she had arrived.

 

* * *

 

 

Kaidan was home.

 

He had felt it in his heart the moment that he stepped back onto the _Normandy_ again. For it wasn't just a ship; it was a vessel for change, both in the galaxy and among the crew.

 

For he knew he had never changed more than during his six months of service on the _Normandy_.

 

Even though it was on its second iteration, the first being torn and buried among the snow, the ship always had its way of welcoming old friends back. Joker clapped him on the shoulder, grinning; stoic Garrus briefly embraced him, welcoming him back; Engineer Adams shouted his named and laughed in joy; even the ship's new AI, EDI, offered to give him a tour of the new ship layout.

 

It almost made him forget that Shepard and he had been pointing their guns at each other only hours prior.

 

They had come close, so close, to entirely rebuilding their fragile bond of trust again. Yet when she had walked through that door, Garrus and James at her heels, with her pistol pointed straight at Councilor Udina, that trust shattered before his eyes.

 

As they launched into the sky again, he hoped they would travel as far away from the Citadel as possible. He needed a break from the place that had only brought with it betrayal. From the Starboard Viewing Area he watched the massive space station diminish to only a faint, glowing dot as they approached the relay.

 

The window’s glass was cool beneath his hand as he put his weight on it,  hanging his head.

 

He had been a goddamn fool.

 

Shepard had been right. Udina had betrayed all of them, and had Shepard not worked so hard to glue together the fragments of their relationship he could have shot her to protect a fraud, a farce for Cerberus, the very organization he had accused her of working with. He snorted when he realized that, more likely, she would have been the one to shoot him down. What had he offered her over the years besides doubt and disappointment? Time and time again, she would prove his doubt wrong, and time and time again, he showed himself the fool by never truly trusting her.

 

If only he had listened. If only he had not been so damn stubborn. Like Garrus he could have joined the Normandy long ago, been the familiar face and the support she needed when treading water through a sea of enemies, but the cursed stubborn doubt turned him into an anchor for her. Why was it that she rewarded him with nothing but patience and kindness? What had he done to deserve this treatment from her?

 

Both his eyes and fists clenched shut in frustration. Shepard had been working to do what was right for humanity, for the galaxy, and he had only been a roadblock in her path.

 

His eyes snapped open, for a roadblock he would be no longer. He would aid her in every way possible from today hence; he would follow every order and do everything in his power to aid her.

 

It was the least he could do to provide some ramification for his foolishness.

 

Dragging him out of his pit of crippling self doubt, the door to Starboard Observation whipped open, and there stood Shepard. In so many ways she was the same; the same wry smile, the same analytical dark eyes, the same mess that passed as an excuse for a head of hair. Yet there was a sadness and a weight to her that exceeded even the days of Saren, and easing that weight was of more import to him than anything else. For if Shepard let it overtake her, as she was wont to do, any chance of coming out of this alive would vanish.

 

So he smiled a reassuring smile, approached her, and embraced her. Beneath his embrace she seemed to sag, the tension abating, and he felt her fist the back of his uniform in her hands.

 

For in many ways, both Shepard and he had changed over the years, yet who they were at the core remained the same. And they were soldiers, loyal and brave, dedicating their lives to the most just of causes. Eternally strong they were not, needing each other to hold them up, like the Roman Heliopolis needed its columns of stone. He would be her column, and she his, and through that shared strength they would prevail through every challenge the Reapers and Cerberus would throw at them.

 

They pulled apart, their eyes briefly locking before darting away like nervous schoolchildren again, the memories of their shared bed lingering in the air. Shepard's gaze found the viewport and out it she stared, transfixed by the stars. Equally transfixed he stood beside her, but by the stars or by her he would not admit to himself.

 

"It doesn't matter how many flights I've taken on a ship," she began, "But every time I get to watch the galaxy fly by me at light speed, I'm mesmerized."

 

Crossing his arms, he chuckled. "Makes me wonder what else is out there, beyond our galaxy I mean." A parallel universe where everything between Shepard and he had remained clear, perhaps? One where she hadn't died? That would be welcome.

 

She shifted her weight and her eyes narrowed. "Maybe a galaxy exists without Reapers. I almost wish I could take the ship there and leave all this behind, but..." Her gaze fell and she swallowed. "How could I do that? If this galaxy is going down, I'm going down with it."

 

"Spoken like a true Commander."

 

"Or a true fool?" She retorted with a wry smile.

 

He rocked onto his heels, and her eyes darted to him in anticipation of his smarmy retort. "Those two things seem rather synonymous, don't they?"

 

Her lips pursed to hold back a grin. "If that's what they say about Commanders, what do they say about Majors?"

 

There it was again: the Shepard charm, something he had only been afforded rare glimpses of in the past two years. It made his heart palpate, and caused his resulting laugh to tremble.

 

With a warm smile to accompany it, she said, "It's good to have you back, Kaidan. All things considered."

 

His brow briefly furrowed, but he knew he deserved that. Their relationship wasn't something that would be repaired today. "It's good to be back, Shepard. To be fighting for those --" he gestured out the window, "--out there."

 

He watched her knead her lower lip, her brow setting into a deep furrow. Something was bothering her, a question she wanted to ask, but he was afraid to prod into what it was. After a pregnant pause, she asked, "Anyone special out there you're fighting for?"

 

Discernibly he started; that was not a question he had been prepared for her to ask. However, it was sensible; their earlier reunion before Mars had been so brief that their personal lives had been far out of their thoughts, and two years had been a long time.

 

A concerning thought struck him at that moment: was there someone else for Shepard? Oh, God, he had never even considered it. Which was foolish, really: she was beautiful, intelligent, strong, kind but not weak... everything a man could ask for in a woman and much more. Her team against the Collectors had been a large one, and who was to say that no one had caught her attention, especially after the way he had treated her on Horizon? She was human, after all. She had needs.

 

He realized by her deepening frown that he had remained silent for an uncomfortably long time. "Well..." he stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I heard back from my mom recently, and she's doing alright. Dad decided to join the fight, but she hasn't heard much from him."

 

She opened her mouth before snapping it shut again, her cheeks quickly flushing into a faint pink tinge. He wished so badly that he could kiss those high spots of colour, and the thought warmed his own cheeks. "I'm... glad your family is ok... or at least your mom, for now." She was stammering, and it was adorable. "Is there anyone, uh, else? That... caught your attention? Someone..." She cleared her throat, and he watched her cheeks turn from pink to rosy. "Special? Romantically? I know we... had..." She cleared her throat again and gazed to the ceiling, so visibly uncomfortable that he had to withhold laughter. However, he wanted to hear her opinion on the matter, so he let her continue. "Our time. And it was great! It was really great. But I was dead, and I'll... I never... if you've... found... I'd understand."

 

He wanted so badly to laugh, but he knew he needed to explain himself. "No," he said quietly, licking his lips, before repeating more forcefully, "No." It wasn't that he hadn't been with anyone at all in two and a half years; there had been a few instances on shore leave, but every shared bed had been an attempt to forget Shepard. To forget watching her die, and to forget the feeling of her flesh beneath his hands. Yet every woman he looked at had been Shepard, and whenever his night was over with someone other than her, he would retreat to his lone cot to weep over the fact that never again would he have her.

 

He had been hurt to learn that, in spite of his sorrows, she had come back without telling him. It made him feel that those nights shared had meant more to him than to her.

 

Now was his time to find out.

 

With conviction he continued, "There hasn't been anyone special, Shepard. Not since you."

 

Clearly stunned by the implications, she didn't bother to hide her widened gaze and she momentarily babbled incoherently. "I... it... oh! You... I... no..." Those wide, surprised eyes met his. "Really?"

 

Low in his throat, he chuckled. "Really. I..." Now it was his turn to feel uncomfortable, but he had to be honest if he had any hope of gaining her trust back. "I tried." A mote of dust on the floor suddenly became highly interesting, and he fixated on it. "But I couldn't stop thinking about you."

 

The silence after his confession was deafening. Shepard could have almost been dancing she shifted her weight so frequently, her cheeks growing close to scarlet they were so flushed. Unable to bear the silence any longer, he asked, "Was there anyone... for you?"

 

She shot him so skeptical a glare that his question suddenly felt preposterous. Shaking her head, she admitted, "No. God no." Flushing even deeper -- which he didn't think was possible, she was almost puce now -- she added, "There were... options. On the ship. But I guess I..." Her last words were whispered. "I couldn't stop thinking about you, either."

 

There it was, making the air between them seem so much heavier, so heavy he could barely move or slog through it: their feelings for each other were still very present, and stronger than either of them thought they would be.

 

His heart leapt into his throat, leaving his chest hollow, at the realization. Although he had clinged on to the faintest hopes that she would still care for him, until it had been verified it had been a wild dream. His head became as light as his chest, and he used all the strength left within him to keep him upright.

 

For a shadow of a moment their eyes met, and between them scorching fire passed, igniting the heavy air, every intimate moment between them read clearly in her gaze, and the animalistic part of him wanted to take her right there.

 

No -- it was not the moment for that. Not yet.

 

As if reading his thoughts she swiftly looked away, stray hairs tumbling down to cover her eyes. He could almost feel the heat in her cheeks from where he was standing.

 

Unbidden, his hand drifted towards that stray hair. Part of him, a stronger part of him, wanted to stop it, wanted to say 'thank you for the talk, Shepard, I'm going to go take a cold shower now and I'll see you in the morning', but being so close to her with his hollow chest and his light head made the weaker part overtake him. That weaker part brushed against her brow, feeling both her soft hair and her burning skin. Again their eyes met, and again there was fire between them, but too there was ice. For the fire was the passion that they had always shared, and the ice was the strength. The ice had been thick as a BC lake in the dead of winter when they had been on the SR-1, together, taking down the geth, together. When she had died, that strength had melted like spring had arrived and taken the powerful ice off of the surface of the lake to be washed away by spring's tepid waters. But winter had come again, bringing with it the pain and the cold and the misery, but in spite of all of that it meant that their lake was freezing over and becoming solid, able to support whatever the wretched season had to throw at it.

 

That was why he leaned in, never leaving her eyes. It was why he paused, his lips a centimeter from hers, to breathe her in, mint and cinnamon and lavender. It was why he committed the fire and ice in her eyes to memory before he closed his eyes and his lips met hers, and God they were soft and yielding and warm and everything that he had remembered but more, so much more, because she was here now instead of just a distant memory from a time when everything had seemed easier even though it wasn't. His hands found her waist, strong and curved, to pull her body in flush against his. With a gasp her lips parted, and his tongue darted against that faint opening, tasting it, tasting mint and desire. Within her teeth she grasped his bottom lip, a reminder that she was not all gentle, she was powerful, a force to be reckoned with, a woman who had spoken Saren down to suicide, who had destroyed the Collectors and their base, who had fought foot-to-foot with a goddamn Reaper.

 

She was Gwin Shepard. Sweet and hard. Kind and unyielding. Warm and cold.

 

Fire and ice.

 

But, God, let it be true, let it be that she was his fire and ice. If this was a dream, if he was going to wake up in Huerta without her, he didn't know how he could make it through another day.

 

So he kissed her, more deeply, more desperately, for if this was a dream he had to enjoy every moment of it, and if it was real? Oh, if it was real, he was going to show her just how much he missed her, just how much she meant to him, all in the span of one kiss because some how she had forgiven his missteps and he wouldn't be fool enough again to not treasure that fact.

 

Her arms were around his shoulders, pulling him in even closer even though he didn't know that there was a closer, and his thoughts were wiped from his mind. There was nothing in this galaxy except for the feel of her lips, her waist, her breasts pushed against his chest, her tongue caressing his, her hair tousled beneath his hand.

 

Reapers, strike them down now, for there would never again be a moment as sweet as this.

 

But the moment passed. She pulled away and smiled at him with such unbeforeseen raw joy that he laughed, not at her, but just in pure contentment.

 

Shyly she brought her hand to her mouth, muttering, "You're still good at that."

 

He giggled -- yes, giggled -- and said, "So are you."

 

"I don't..." She scuffed her toe against the floor. "I don't know what this means. Not yet." Her dark eyes met his. "But I'd really like to find out. In time."

 

His tone was warm when he said, "Me too, Shepard."

 

Thumbing towards the door, she asked, "Want to grab some pre-processed lunch with me? Just like old times?"

 

He grinned. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Shepard."

 

And he meant it.  

 

 


End file.
